


I Knew a Man Who was Afraid to Love

by MorningLullabies



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningLullabies/pseuds/MorningLullabies
Summary: In which Geralt is a chronic insomniac who becomes smitten with his musician neighbor Jaskier while watching him compose late at night
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 207





	I Knew a Man Who was Afraid to Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a twitfic! Enjoy!

_”I knew a man who was afraid to love,  
To lay his heart on the bathroom rug.  
He drank his coffee in the same old mug,  
And sat in silence ‘til the world fell numb.”- **Ingrid Michaelson**_

———

  
The apartment he rented was small, but it was large enough for him and that’s what mattered. Working for a rancher didn’t make Geralt a lot of money, but it did make him enough to be comfortable. The apartment building lay in close juxtaposition to another apartment building.

This one just as worn and old as the one Geralt lived in. Sometimes, through his kitchen window, Geralt could catch the glimpses of life from across the alleyway in other homes. The ones that made him smile always involved the children. It reminded him of when Ciri was younger.

Now grown and moved out on her own, a reminder of when she was small and full of sunshine was always welcome. Geralt always did like sunshine in a person, even if one could never tell by looking at him, or even speaking to him for that matter.

He was a bit of a grumpy man, he had to admit, even to himself. What mattered to him were Ciri, his horses at the ranch, and his plants. He kept a veritable forest of houseplants in his apartment to combat the surrounding grayness of the concrete jungle that was his apartment.

A myriad of houseplants kept by a ranch hand seemed unlikely, but that was exactly the sort of thing Geralt loved. Each one tenderly cared for in their pots, fed and watered as often as each needed, from greenery, to flowers, to even succulents.

It was tending to these plants that one day Geralt happened to look out his kitchen window and notice a new face in the apartment directly across from his. The young man who moved in was setting up what looked to be a piano. The fact that he was incredibly good looking was not lost on Geralt at all. With a lean body and a handsome face, Geralt felt more than a little flustered when the man turned around and caught sight of him staring.

The man didn’t seem to mind all that much that he caught his new neighbor practically drooling over him. In fact, he brightened up at the sight of Geralt and gave a cheerful wave to him.

‘Perhaps he’s used to people falling all over themselves around him,’ Geralt mused.

Geralt turned away from the window before he caused himself anymore trouble with his new neighbor, and went back to tending to his plants.

———

Jaskier was delighted. He found a new apartment for very little money a month, which was important when one was a poor musician. It was terribly outdated, but that was the least of Jaskier’s worries at the moment. What captured his attention was his neighbor across the alleyway: a ruggedly handsome man with a scar running down his face, tending some houseplants. Jaskier could see he had quite a few.

The man had gaped at him when he saw him setting up his old piano in his living area/soon to be music room- Jaskier lived and breathed music- and Jaskier took it more as shock that he had a neighbor and nothing really that had to do with him personally. Men didn’t usually look his way, thinking him more of a ladies’ man. They would only be partially right. Jaskier appreciated all beauty, and that included his new neighbor. So he gave the older man a wave and went back to unpacking his lovingly transported musical instruments.

Perhaps one of these days Jaskier would go over and introduce himself. That couldn’t hurt anything, right?

———

Awhile later, Geralt sat at his kitchen table. He didn’t know what time it was, but he knew it was late. Really, he should be asleep by now. He should be resting for another long day out in the hot sun on the ranch, but instead he was sitting up with a cup of decaf coffee, watching the stains on the wall.

Insomnia was nothing new to him. He suffered from it far more often than he would like.

There was nothing much to be done for it, his doctor told him, beyond giving him sleeping aids in the form of prescription medications. These aids sat in his bathroom cabinet, untouched. Geralt couldn’t say why he didn’t take them. He could only imagine it was his undying stubbornness that kept him from seeking out a good night’s sleep- that, and his fear of the side effects. (Sleepwalking? They had to be crazy if they thought he was risking that while living on his own.)

It was only by chance that Geralt happened to look across the alleyway through his little kitchen window. The light was on in the apartment the young man moved into, and curiosity got the better of him. What was he up to this late at night?

Peering further into the darkness, Geralt started as the man came into view, pacing and holding a sheet of paper and a pencil. He sat down at his piano bench, and began playing a tune, mouthing something that Geralt could only imagine were the lyrics to a song he was composing.

So, the mysterious and handsome man was a musician, was he? That was something.

Geralt had a brief flash of pity for the man’s neighbors in all directions. If he did this often, and from what Geralt knew of musicians, he probably did, it couldn’t be much fun for them.

Having someone bang on a piano at all hours of the night? Well, perhaps he would allow it, but only if it were this man here. The way he swayed as he sat on his piano bench entranced Geralt. He could feel the man’s passion. It practically rolled off him in waves.

Geralt briefly wondered if he did everything else in his life just as passionately.

Where had that come from? Why was Geralt so interested in his mysterious neighbor? He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, picking up his coffee mug to drain the last of the dregs from it.

It was time to attempt sleep, especially if he was musing over a man much too young and handsome for him. Geralt was in his forties, for gods’ sakes. Even if this young, probably in his twenties, man gave him the time of day, it wouldn’t be for romantic reasons.

On top of that, he probably wasn’t into men. That was Geralt’s unfortunate experience when it came to his love life: most men he found attractive were into women, and it halted all further pursuit. He hated to say it, but he’d almost given up on finding someone.

Geralt was a loner, after all. It was hard to meet people when you were knee deep in horse shit ninety percent of your life, and locked away in your apartment unable to sleep properly the other ten percent.

Ciri joked that he should try online dating. That usually earned her a glare followed by her telling him he was wonderful the way he was and someone would come along for him, someday.

Online dating? Not happening. Geralt could use a computer to check his work email and that was quite enough, thank you.

Having placed his mug in the sink and turned out his kitchen light, Geralt took one last glance at the window across the alley, catching a glimpse of his new neighbor scribbling furiously away at his paper on the piano’s music stand.

Perhaps one day, when they were introduced properly, and not just through a quick wave and a panic via the windows of their apartments, he would let Geralt hear some of what he wrote. It might be just an unattainable fancy, but the thought carried him to bed and somehow to sleep.

———

Jaskier was up far later than he usually was the night before. Partially due to too much caffeine intake the day before, but mostly because he had the idea for a most wonderful tune. The lyrics he wasn’t quite sure on just yet, but he spent all night at his piano.

The results were an incredibly mournful melody that stirred his heart and soul. Of course, Jaskier knew he was biased. All of his songs were like his children, and while some of them didn’t quite turn out the way he wanted them to, he was proud of everything he composed.

The one from the night before however promised to be something special. Ever since he moved in and saw his neighbor’s face through his living room window, Jaskier had been inspired. It was incredible, especially considering what a block he’d been in before this. Now the notes flowed easily from his fingertips to the ivory keys of his piano, pulling him nightly into a trance of composition.

He knew, if he could only get the lyrics to come out right, this could be his big break. Something this heartfelt could sell, Jaskier just knew it.

Sitting at his piano once more, he tapped his pencil on the keys, trying to decide what type of song he should make this. The image of his neighbor crossed his mind, and Jaskier shook his head to clear it.

The man had inspired the music, but could he also let him inspire the lyrics? Could Jaskier write about his fascination with someone he’d never even met? He didn’t know. All he knew was that when he looked across the alley separating their apartments, he was entranced.

The only time he ever saw the white-haired man was if he was composing and even then, he was sure he paid Jaskier no mind. Even at 3AM, when both of them were the only souls awake in the world, Jaskier was sure he was practically invisible.

He shoved his piano stool back and stood up. Perhaps a walk would clear his head. It was a nice, crisp autumn day out and he felt like some fresh air would do him good. Grabbing his jacket and a scarf, he headed out the door and down the stairs.

Once on the sidewalk, he breathed deeply, taking in the scent of fresh fall air mixed with that of the city. He had to admit, even with the scent of gasoline and exhaust from the cars, and the scent of food cooking wafting from the food trucks, it wasn’t a bad smell.

It was inspiring, sometimes, and exciting. Having grown up in the country, it was a pleasant change of pace.

Jaskier headed towards a coffee shop he’d found earlier that week after another long sleepless night of composing. As he rounded the corner, a figure caught his eye. His neighbor was there on the street, locking the door to a very large truck before turning to walk his way.

Jaskier panicked. He fantasized over the last few days about meeting the man just like this, and now it might happen.

What should he do? He can’t just casually walk up to him and say, “Hey.”Or maybe he can. Would he think he was crazy? Would he be just ask excited to see Jaskier as Jaskier was to see him? These were important questions-ones Jaskier needed answers too but probably wouldn’t get. Not in time to face his neighbor who was now within fifty feet of him. He hadn’t spotted Jaskier yet, and Jaskier couldn’t decide if that was a blessing.

No. It was a curse, Jaskier decided. One to make him confront his demons himself. So he would.

Jaskier was normally brave. He had no problem in bars and pubs sauntering up to the person giving him The Look and flirting with them until they agreed to go home with him. For some reason, this time was harder, but he could do it. He believed in himself.

The man had spotted Jaskier at this point, and had raised his hand in greeting. Jaskier couldn’t believe it. He was starting the conversation. How lucky could he be?

“Uh. Hello there,” Jaskier stumbled over his words, “You-you’re my neighbor across the way, aren’t you?”

The man stopped walking and turned to Jaskier. He seemed surprised that Jaskier spoke to him, and it took him a moment before he let out a gruff, “Yeah.”

Oh god, Jaskier had made a mistake in stopping him. He didn’t want to talk to him, did he? Oh no.

“I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. I’m Julian. Well. Uh. Jaskier actually. No one calls me Julian except for my father. You can call me Jaskier too if you’d like.”

Another long pause while the man in front of him gathered his thoughts.

Jaskier wished he knew what he was thinking.

“Geralt,” the man said.

Jaskier waited for more but there didn’t seem to be anymore words coming.

“I...was just headed to the coffee shop down the way here... would you care to join me?” He was taking a risk, he knew.

Geralt studied him for another moment. These long moments were unnerving to tell the truth, and Jaskier wished Geralt would say something instead of just staring at him. Finally he did.

“No. Thank you.”

Jaskier could drown in that voice and he wondered if it showed on his face.

He really hoped his expressions didn’t show on his face. Then Geralt would not only see his infatuation, but his disappointment, too.

“Oh, okay. Well..If you ever need anything-anything at all- I’m in apartment 4B. It was nice to finally meet you, Geralt. Have a good day!”

Jaskier turned, hoping again that his disappointment didn’t show as he walked off at a brisk pace down the road towards the coffee shop.

———

Geralt stood in the middle of the road, wondering what the hell just happened.

Had he really just turned down Jaskier’s offer for a coffee date, after all that time spent mooning over him through the window of his kitchen?

Yes. Yes, he really had. Geralt could have kicked himself. The boy-no, the man-had looked so disappointed by his refusal, too.

He wondered if he should turn around and go after him, but decided it was better to head home. His plants needed tending, anyway. He had Jaskier’s apartment number, and the offer to call on him if needed, so why would he chase him down. Geralt needed to do some thinking.

———

Later that night, Geralt sat again at his kitchen table, unable to sleep once more. It was his own fault, really. He was thinking about Jaskier again, and their conversation earlier that day.

Although if Geralt was being fair, it wasn’t much of a conversation. But it had been enough to make him wonder why the man had stopped him on the street just to introduce himself. Was it because he too had only thought of the other since the day of the move? Was that too much to hope for? Geralt, being free with his hopes, hoped not.

Had he made a mistake in refusing Jaskier’s invite? He reflexively glanced over to Jaskier’s apartment, noting that his light was on, too. He gazed a little too long, and caught a glimpse of Jaskier in the window, once again pacing about with his sheet music in hand.

“Perhaps I can remedy this mistake,” Geralt murmured aloud to himself. He stood up from his table and rummaged around in his cabinets for a moment, emerging with a large thermos. The coffee was already made, but it was decaf. It would have to do in a pinch, Geralt decided. He filled the thermos with the pot of coffee, grabbed two mugs, and left his apartment.

Once outside the door of Jaskier’s apartment, he paused. He didn’t know what he would say when he answered the door. How could he explain randomly showing up at 1:30 in the morning?

Taking a deep breath, Geralt decides on telling the truth. He’s always been an honest man, and it’s gotten him this far, so he saw no reason to change things, now. He would simply tell Jaskier he wanted to make up for refusing to have coffee with him earlier.

Another deep breath, and Geralt knocks on the door.

There’s some rustling and moving about behind the door while Geralt waits. Footsteps come closer and closer, the deadbolt clicks, and the knob turns. Swinging open, the door reveals a very surprised and frazzled Jaskier.

“Geralt! What a lovely surprise!” Jaskier looks absolutely delighted at the prospect of finding him outside his door past midnight. The implication behind this reaction is not entirely lost on Geralt, and he’s secretly pleased that Jaskier is pleased.

If Jaskier is pleased, that means he did something right, and Geralt, despite outward appearances, is always pleased when he does something right.

He’s ushered through the door with some fanfare, as if Jaskier had been waiting for him all this time. He barely has time to remove his shoes at the doorway before Jaskier is pulling out a chair and bidding him to sit.

A long moment passes before Geralt finally realizes Jaskier is waiting for him to speak. It takes another moment before he realizes HE was the one to knock on Jaskier’s door.

“I hope it’s not an intrusion-“ Geralt begins.

“Oh, no, not at all! I’m so glad you stopped by!” Jaskier interjects.

“-but I thought you might like to have the cup of coffee now.” Geralt continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted with exactly what he wanted to hear.

Jaskier opened his mouth, only to close it again half a second later. Obviously this was not what he was expecting. Or was it, and Geralt had just surprised him because he thought he’d never get it? These questions and more ran through his mind as Jaskier looked at him curiously across the room. He sat perched upon his piano bench, eyeing him like a hawk now.

“Why now?” He finally voiced.

“I don’t know,” Geralt responded, “I thought maybe I could make up for my mistake.”

“Your...mistake?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes. My mistake. I should have took you up on that cup of coffee earlier today. I was wrong not to.”

“But why?” He asked again, like a child needing to know all the answers.

“...Because I...like you,” Geralt finally answered after another long pause. He was really good at those, wasn’t he?

“Do you?” Jaskier laughed a little, and to Geralt’s ears it was like sunshine.

“I do.”

“Like me how?” Jaskier stared him down, waiting for the answer he knew was coming.

Geralt gulped. Perhaps he should have poured the coffee first, so he’d have something to do with his hands besides sit here and resist wringing them.

“I...” Geralt stammered for the first time in his life. The gaze from Jaskier was intense, and he felt compelled to answer, “I find you very attractive.”

“Attractive” was a good adjective to settle on, Geralt decided. It could mean several things.

‘But not anything other than what he’s expecting,’ whispered a voice in the back of his mind. He shut out that voice, hoping for the best in this conversation.

———

Jaskier was dumbfounded.

Everything he wanted was right there in front of him, and now he was too busy playing dumb to appreciate it. Why did he keep asking stupid questions when the answer was right there? Geralt found him attractive. That should have been enough.

Yet, for some reason, he wanted more. He wanted to hear Geralt say he wanted more, too. That was why he hesitated. Something about their connection with each other felt so right, Jaskier couldn’t describe it.

Geralt was standing now, setting his mugs on a low table Jaskier usually used for his own tea or coffee. He poured the hot liquid from the thermos and handed one to Jaskier.

“All I had was decaf. I hope that’s okay...”

Jaskier smiled. So Geralt was a decaf drinker, then. He would remember that. For next time, Jaskier reminded himself, because there would be a next time if he had his way, and Jaskier usually got his way.

This time would be no different. Jaskier planned to end this conversation on his terms, and that meant with a date with the older man set up completely: time, day and place.

“So. You find me attractive? Is that all?” Jaskier didn’t mean to sound bitter, he really didn’t, but he was jaded. Too many years of men thinking he was just a pretty boy to be used and tossed aside after they’d had their fun with him, thinking he’d go on to find someone else.

Geralt must have heard the heartbreak he tried so hard to conceal, because he raised a hand, signaling to Jaskier to remain calm, “That’s not all.”

Jaskier stopped whatever sassy remark was about to emerge from his mouth, waiting for what Geralt had to say.

“I find you very attractive,” Geralt continued, “and I would like to get to know you better. I was thinking maybe dinner this Friday? I know a place down the street that does a good burger.”

Jaskier couldn’t believe his ears. He was getting everything he wanted without having to raise a finger, and it was miraculous. Could this really be happening for him? Jaskier wanted to pinch himself, but instead he nodded mutely.

“I’m old, Jaskier, but not so old that I don’t know when a man is interested,” Geralt looked down at his mug, turning it in his hands, “But I am old enough that I have to ask: why me? What do you see in me?”

Jaskier paused for a moment, then took a breath, “I see how you tend your plants. You love them. There’s a tenderness in you. Despite all your scars and roughness, you’re gentle with them. Giving them the loving care they need; no more and no less. I want that.” Jaskier’s voice was hoarse with his confession, as if he were telling his greatest secret, and perhaps he was.

Geralt gave a small smile. It was almost sad, but Jaskier took it for the rare gem it is, appreciating that in that moment it was only for him and no one else.

Jaskier stood up, walking over to kneel next to Geralt, “So, I’ll see you this Friday, then? Shall we say seven?”

“Yes,” Geralt murmured, looking down at the man who had seen more in him in just small glimpses than anyone ever had, “Seven works perfectly.”


End file.
